


come out the other side (with something beautiful)

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mentions of Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons - Freeform, Post-Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: There is a man who loves Jemma lost in space, waiting for her to rescue him.She wonders more than once, in the time it takes to find him, whether anyone else remembers how poorly things ended the last time this happened.
Relationships: Will Daniels/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	come out the other side (with something beautiful)

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da! Week 3 of 52 down! \o/
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review! <3

“Hello!”

It’s a good thing the beautiful woman waiting on the surface is just a hallucination; otherwise, Will’d have to be embarrassed by the way he yelps and nearly falls off the ladder at her greeting.

“The fuck,” he says, a little weakly, once he recovers from the shock.

“Sorry.” The aforementioned beautiful hallucination beams at him, not looking apologetic at all. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

His hallucination is British, apparently. _Weird choice,_ he thinks in It’s general direction. If he’d known he was gonna be hallucinating a woman, he’d expect one who sounded like she was from home. Hell, he’d expect a _familiar_ one—one of his old girlfriends, maybe, Casey or Nicola or Michelle.

Well, whatever It’s going for in making him see a strange British woman, nothing good can come from making conversation with one of It’s tricks, no matter how pretty she is.

He ducks back into the cave without another word.

+++

_There is a man who loves Jemma lost in space, waiting for her to rescue him._

_She wonders more than once, in the time it takes to find him, whether anyone else remembers how poorly things ended the last time this happened._

+++

“I’m not a hallucination.”

Next verse, same as the first. There’s a beautiful British woman sitting a few feet away from the top of the ladder, watching him with an almost unsettling focus.

The opportunity for another look at her brings home just how weird a choice It’s made with this. She’s clean, which he’d expect, but she’s also dressed appropriately for the desert. Not like Will’s some kind of creep that goes around dreaming about naked women all the time (sometimes, yeah—he’s been alone for a _really_ long time—but not all the time), but he’d really think It’d go with something a little more risqué if It was trying to get under his skin.

His hallucination is still watching him.

“I can prove I’m real,” she says, “if you come a little closer.”

Nope. Will doesn’t know what It’s got planned for him, but he’s in no hurry to find out.

He goes back down the ladder.

+++

_It ends poorly again, of course. How could it not?_

_Half the Earth’s population disappears in a blink—just disintegrating into ash, into_ nothing _, in the span of a moment. It has something to do with the Avengers, a spaceship in New York, an invasion in Wakanda, the typical superhero nonsense, but Jemma can’t bring herself to care about the hows or the whys._

_The details don’t matter, only the end result: when they finally track down Fitz’s cryo pod—one year and two dead teammates later—he’s not in it. There’s only a pile of ash and, if Jemma’s feeling fanciful, an invisible handful of shattered dreams._

_She’s been widowed twice by the same man._

_In a manner of speaking, at least. To be completely accurate, since this Fitz—the one whose ashes lie before her—never made it to the Lighthouse and therefore never married her, she’s been widowed once and lost one boyfriend._

And _a grandson, because Deke is gone, as well. Whether caught up in the same planetary event as Fitz, erased from existence by the death of his grandfather before he was born, or if he simply walked away from SHIELD as he was planning in the chaos of those last days, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that like Fitz (twice), he’s gone._

_So is Coulson by now, surely. And there’s no telling about May—she never came back. She might be alive somewhere, grieving alone, or she could be dead._

_And the others—_

_Well._

_All things considered, Jemma doesn’t think she can truly be blamed for turning to drink._

+++

No surprise, she’s there the next day, too.

“I brought you some water,” she offers hopefully.

Not hopefully. She’s _not real_ , she can’t be hopeful. Will can’t let her get to him.

“I’d share my food,” she adds, “but you really shouldn’t have any just yet. After all these years of malnutrition, you’ll need to build back up to eating regularly. I’m sorry.”

This time she actually looks it, too, all big, sad eyes. It does something to his heart—something _stupid_ , because she’s not even actually there to be sad.

“You don’t have to ignore me,” she says, voice soft and eyes even softer. “I promise, I’m real.”

Yeah, right.

He goes back inside.

+++

_She’s well on her way to oblivion when Daisy opens her door._

_And looks remarkably startled to find Jemma on the floor, drinking wine straight from the bottle._

_“Um.”_

_Her face is hilarious; Jemma nearly chokes on a giggle. “Hello, Daisy! Would you like some?”_

_“I’m good, thanks,” Daisy says slowly._

_As she likes. Personally, Jemma is finding life looks much better through the lens of a very nice red, but who is she to judge? She feels so much lighter, like all of her troubles have just lifted away. Like her troubles are in a zero-g environment._

_Jemma’s a bit jealous, actually. She’s been to space several times now and never gotten to do tricks like the videos of the astronauts on the space station._

_Unfair._

_The combined realization of the unfairness of life and memory of astronauts brings her back to Earth with an unpleasant_ bump _—but Daisy’s sitting down next to her, nice and close so Jemma can feel her warmth. That’s pleasant._

_“So,” Daisy says. “Thinking about Fitz?”_

_Pfft. “Will, actually.”_

_She always thinks of Will when she thinks of astronauts. And when she drinks wine. And very many other times, too._

_The wine! She takes another sip. It doesn’t help the way she hoped it would._

_“There was a bottle of wine in the No-Fly Zone—Hive’s territory, you know—and he went in and got it, that last day. We were going to drink it to celebrate the sunrise.”_

_She holds her bottle out, regarding it critically. It’s nice—expensive. It doesn’t look anything at all like that sand-crusted vinegar from the No-Fly Zone._

_“But it turned out to be disgusting—pure vinegar—and then…Well. You know how that went.” Her mouth twists. “It wasn’t what I meant when I said I’d kill for a glass of wine.”_

_Daisy makes a choked little sound. It’s a moment before she actually speaks. “You’ve never really talked about him much.”_

_“No,” Jemma agrees. “No one wanted to hear it.”_

_Oh, that was blunter than she’d usually be. This is why she drinks alone—losing her inhibitions means losing her_ filters _, verbal and mental._

_If she let herself, she could hate the others for everything that happened after she returned from Maveth._

_But the team is all she has anymore. In any case, it’s probably alright she’s mentioned Will now, because—_

_“Fitz is dead,” she says, “again. And you’re too angry at him for violating you to push him at me, even in his absence. So.”_

_“Push—” Daisy sputters. “I didn’t push him at you!”_

_Ha! The denial cheers her up a bit, simply for the absurdity. Didn’t push—that’s hilarious._

_“You did,” she disagrees. “It’s all right; everyone did. Hunter with his snide comments about Will and Bobbi always bringing up what Fitz’d risked for me and Mack only likes me when I’m making Fitz happy and Coulson wanted to see us married before he died.”_

_She’s lost track of her sentence a bit; it takes her a moment to recall where she meant to take it._

_“At least you were thinking of me when you tried to get us together.” She scoffs, remembering. “You and bloody_ Hive _.”_

 _Daisy chokes. “Wait,_ what _?”_

_“Oh, didn’t I—no, I guess I didn’t, did I?” Jemma realizes. “As you were swayed at the time. Well.” The memory is so vivid; it’s almost as though she’s right back in that hallway. “In Bucharest, when you were attacking Fitz, Hive found me. He pretended to be Will.”_

_Her voice might have cracked a bit, there. Daisy looks so sympathetic, Jemma has to look away._

_“He said he was happy I’d made it home,” she tells the bottle instead. “And he wanted me to let him go and be happy with Fitz.” A bitter chuckle wells up in her throat. “So much for that, hm?”_

+++

Fourth day, she’s there again. Ignoring her obviously isn’t working; it’s time for a new tactic.

“If you’re not a hallucination,” he says, interrupting whatever greeting she had planned, “why the hell are you just sitting out here all the time? You haven’t moved in four days.”

“I _have_ moved,” she says, “just not far. And obviously—” she leans forward “—it’s because I’m waiting for you.”

This is not convincing. Like, at all. Will’s not gonna lie, he’s actually a little offended that It’s putting in so little effort.

“Why would you be waiting for me?” he asks. “How could you even know I’m here?”

“You saved my life once,” she says with a weird little smile. “I’m just here to return the favor.”

Uh huh. Sounds nice, but there’s one glaring problem with that.

“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“No,” she agrees, smile fading. “You haven’t.”

This is pointless.

Will returns to the cave.

+++

_There’s something Jemma’s needed to say to Daisy for quite some time. Now that they’re on the topic of Will…it seems appropriate._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“For_ what _?” Daisy asks, appearing completely thrown._

_“For being so angry at you.” Jemma looks away just for a moment, just as long as it takes to gather her courage. “When you left. I was just jealous, you see.”_

_Daisy’s face softens with an understanding that stings at Jemma’s heart. “That I got to leave?”_

_“Mm. And grieve.” She laughs, which is better than crying. “You got to do that—but I was too busy trying to get Fitz to talk to me again. Trying to alleviate_ his _guilt.” Tears are still threatening; she swallows them down. “Do you know what the first thing I did when I realized Will was dead was?”_

_“No,” Daisy says after a long pause. She looks near tears, too. “What did you do?”_

_“I hugged Fitz,” Jemma says. She takes a long drink of the wine, hoping to wash away the bitter taste of that truth. “Will deserved better than that.”_

_“Than you seeking comfort after his death?” Daisy asks gently._

_She’s so kind, casting Jemma’s betrayal in such a positive light. Jemma’s tears well up once again._

_“Seeking comfort in the arms of his rival,” she says—and then all the rest spills out, along with all her tears. She can’t stop it. “And then I forgot about him. I pushed him away and_ moved on _and you don’t—you don’t even_ know _about him because I never—I never told you—anyone—he_ saved _me—I_ loved _him—I didn’t—”_

_She’s outright sobbing by the end of it, speaking disjointedly, near incoherent. Daisy pulls her into a hug, squeezing her close, warm and familiar and comforting enough to calm her, just a little._

_“He died for me,” she says, because that’s the rub, isn’t it? Fourteen years Will survived on that planet, and then along comes Jemma and… “He_ died for me _, and Fitz died for nothing at all, and I can’t—I can’t—”_

_“I know,” Daisy murmurs, holding her even closer. “I know, Jemma.”_

_And she does, doesn’t she? She got to grieve for Lincoln, but that doesn’t mean his death hurts her any less._

_Jemma gives into that understanding, into the comfort Daisy offers, and stops trying to fight her tears. She lets her grief and guilt overwhelm her and sobs into her best friend’s—her_ only _friend’s—shoulder._

_She doesn’t say anything when she feels Daisy shaking with sobs, too._

+++

The rattle of the ladder wakes Will in the middle of the night.

“Sorry to intrude,” his hallucination calls, even as he’s lunging for his machete. “I really meant to leave you as much space as possible, it’s just that It’s up there throwing another tantrum.”

Heart still pounding from the shock, he pushes through the curtain to find her waiting politely at the bottom of the ladder.

“I hate sandstorms,” she says, apologetically. “Sand always gets _everywhere_ , and as it will be a while before I’m able to shower…”

Will just stares at her.

She smiles weakly.

“Sorry,” she says again, softly.

It’s the first time he’s seen her standing. She’s shorter than he expected.

“You’re a hallucination,” he reminds her. “Sand can’t get anywhere.”

The look she gives him is fond enough to put a lump in his throat. It’s been a long time since anyone looked at him at all, and even longer since they looked at him like _that_.

It’s kinda pathetic he’s this affected by a hallucination…but hey, who’s she gonna tell?

“I’m really not a hallucination,” she says, leaning back against the ladder. “But it’s all right. We have time.”

Whatever dumb, embarrassing-to-be-induced-by-an-imaginary-British-woman feelings he was having are instantly replaced by suspicion.

“Time until _what_?” he demands.

She considers him thoughtfully, obviously weighing her words. She’s a convincing hallucination, he’ll give It that.

“Until the portal,” she says finally.

“…The what?”

“According to my calculations, a portal will open an easy hour’s walk from here in the near future. Well, near-ish.” Hallucination or not, the smile she gives him is breathtaking. “I came early to earn your trust, so you’ll follow me when the time comes.”

Will swallows. It’s not like he hasn’t dreamed of portals opening conveniently close, ready and waiting for him to just walk right through and make it home, but this…this is crueler than those dreams. This is _rescue_ he’s hallucinating.

It doesn’t play fair.

“I admit, the trust earning isn’t going as quickly as I’d planned,” she adds. “Still, I’m hopeful we’ll have a breakthrough soon.”

He scoffs. If she means to convince him she’s not a hallucination, that’s definitely the wrong tack to take. “There’s no hope on this planet.”

“Oh,” she says quietly, smiling just a little, “you’d be surprised.”

+++

_Jemma doesn’t know how long it takes them to cry themselves out, but in time, they do. Then they sit there in silence for a while, cuddling close on her floor._

_“God,” Daisy says eventually. “If we were gonna time travel, why’d it have to be to the shitty dystopian future? Why couldn’t it be to the past?”_

_Jemma’s breath catches. “That’s it.”_

_“What’s i—_ no _,” she snaps, catching on immediately. “Simmons, we cannot travel in time_ again _.”_

_“Yes, we can.” Somehow, Jemma’s come to be gripping Daisy’s shoulders. “Daisy, Fitz is dead.”_

_“I know,” she says, “and I’m sorry, but—”_

_She doesn’t understand._

_“No,” she interrupts. “I mean, Fitz is dead, but he saved us on the Lighthouse._ _If he hadn’t arrived, we’d still be enslaved to Kasius…but how could he have arrived if he died decades before we were enslaved?”_

_Daisy blinks at her. “Do you have a point beyond giving me a headache?”_

_Hope—the kind of hope that used to come so naturally—floods her whole body. She feels she could fly._

_“My point is,” she says, “time isn’t fragile. If this were a science fiction novel, Fitz dying now would cause the entire multiverse to collapse—or at the very least bring Reapers down on us. But he’s dead and we’re fine and that—that means there’s nothing stopping us from changing the past. From making it_ better _.”_

_Hope wars with disbelief on Daisy’s face. “But the time monolith is gone. It got blown up, remember?”_

_“It was in fragments in the future,” Jemma points out, “and we still found a way home. All we need is a chance, Daisy, and I can make it work. I_ know _I can make it work.”_

_Daisy takes a few minutes to think that over. Then, smiling just a little, she takes Jemma’s hands._

_“Okay,” she says. “Where do we start?”_

_An entire plan has sprung into existence in Jemma’s mind, as though it’s been waiting there all along._

_She knows exactly what to do. “We start with another look at the rift.”_

+++

It’s harder ignoring his hallucination when she’s following him around the cave, but Will gives it his best shot. It even mostly works for a while, before she apparently loses her patience.

“All right,” she says. “I was really hoping to avoid this, but…”

He’s so busy ignoring her, he doesn’t see the slap coming. It’s a hard one, too; hard enough to turn his head and leave his cheek stinging.

…Wait. What?

His heart stops.

“That…that hurt,” he says numbly.

“Yes,” she agrees.

“But you—that—”

She’s a hallucination, which means she can’t hurt him. But _she just hurt him_ , which means—which means—

“Holy shit,” he says, and sits heavily on the table. “Holy shit, you’re real.”

The—holy shit, beautiful _actual woman_ in front of him gives him a teasing smile. “I hate to say I told you so, but…I did tell you so.”

Any other time, he might argue that—he doesn’t think she hates to say it at all—but he’s got more important concerns right now.

“So, wait. Is there—there’s really—?”

“Yes, Will,” she says, smile softening out of teasing and back into fond. “There really is a portal. It will open in three weeks and I will lead you straight to it and take you home.”

“But—how? Why?” He really can’t wrap his head around this. Even odds whether that’s because it’s so unexpected or the way she’s looking at him. Knowing she’s real makes his hands itch to touch her. “Who even are you?”

“My name is Jemma Simmons,” his not-hallucination says. “As for the how and why, that’s a bit trickier.” She scrunches her nose; it’s unfairly adorable. “Hm. Well…you used a giant, melting rock to be instantly transported across space to another planet, which you discovered had been destroyed by an ancient evil that can get inside your head and make you see things. Yes?”

It’s a pretty good summary. “Yeah…?”

“Knowing all of that, how do you feel about other science fiction elements?” she asks.

“Like what?”

She bites her lip. “Like, say…time travel?”

Is she—no. No way. “You are _not_ saying you traveled in time.”

“I’m afraid so,” she says, and shrugs a little. “In my original timeline, I ended up stranded here with you a little less than two years from now. Eventually, I made it home—but only because you sacrificed yourself to save me.”

Will…really doesn’t know how to take that.

“It wasn’t fair,” she says. “It wasn’t _right_. So I’m here to fix it.”

“You made it home,” he says, “and then you came back here? To this hell? On _purpose_?” Not that he doesn’t appreciate her wanting to save his life, but he just can’t wrap his head around it. “ _Why_?”

“Because,” she says, and cups his face in both hands. A shiver runs through him—it’s been so fucking _long_ since someone touched him, he almost can’t stand it. He wants to knock her hands away. He wants to keep her from ever moving them. “I love you, Will Daniels.”

What.

“I never got the chance to say it before,” she adds, and kisses him. It’s fierce but quick; he doesn’t even have time to absorb that it’s happening before she’s pulling away. “So I’m here and I’ve said it, and now I’m going to get you home. We are going to get married and buy a nice house in the country, one that gets plenty of sunlight, and we’ll have children and a dog and everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Uh…” He’s got nothing. The declaration of love and the kiss threw him completely for a loop. He’s not sure he even remembers his own name.

“It’s all right,” she says, and lets go of his face. He might whimper a little at the loss. “I know you don’t know me, and that you don’t feel that way about me yet.”

He might have a few words ready, but then she gives him another one of those breathtaking smiles. Knowing she’s actually _real_ makes it that much more devastating; he loses his whole vocabulary in the face of that smile.

“It’s all right,” she repeats. “We have time before the portal opens. I’m confident I can make you fall in love with me again in three weeks.”

“Yeah,” he says, slow and hoarse. “Yeah. I’m sure you can.”

In the face of that smile? Knowing that she came back to this hell for _him_?

He’s pretty sure he’ll be in love by morning.


End file.
